


If You Never Wake, My Love (Maybe I Can Go With You)

by rockinhamburger



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-08
Updated: 2011-03-08
Packaged: 2017-10-16 19:26:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockinhamburger/pseuds/rockinhamburger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he walked into the kitchen, he found his dad standing motionless in front of the coffee machine. Notably, he was wearing a suit.</p><p>"Hey Dad," Kurt mumbled, starting toward the cupboard for his traveler's mug. "What's with the suit?"</p><p>He received no response, or greeting whatsoever. Kurt glanced over curiously as he opened the cupboard door, and froze when he saw that his dad was shaking with silent tears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Never Wake, My Love (Maybe I Can Go With You)

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken and rearranged from lyrics to The Living Room by Amanda Palmer. Songs featured in this story include Evita's Don't Cry For Me Argentina and Queen's The Show Must Go On.
> 
> Story originally posted at the kurt_blaine community at livejournal.

Kurt's internal clock woke him long before his alarm was set to go off. Kurt used the extra time to take a blissfully long shower, and to style his hair with perfect precision. He dressed in his uniform, glancing longingly at his lonely wardrobe, and made his way downstairs for the morning essentials.

When he walked into the kitchen, he found his dad standing motionless in front of the coffee machine. Notably, he was wearing a _suit_.

"Hey Dad," Kurt mumbled, starting toward the cupboard for his traveler's mug. "What's with the suit?"

He received no response, or greeting whatsoever. Kurt glanced over curiously as he opened the cupboard door, and froze when he saw that his dad was shaking with silent tears.

Kurt could literally count on one hand the number of times he'd seen his dad cry. Most of them were to do with Kurt's mom, obviously, and the rest were a few tears shed over a particularly moving film.

"Dad?" he asked with concern.

His dad's only response was to continue crying silently, staring out the kitchen window at the backyard and trembling with emotion.

Kurt felt fear grip him abruptly. His dad was crying. And he was ignoring Kurt. What the hell was going on!?

"Dad!" he said loudly. When he received, yet again, no response, Kurt walked right over. " _Dad!_ " Kurt seized his dad's arm but yanked it back when his dad didn't look his way, or even so much as flinch.

"This isn't funny!" Kurt snapped. "What the hell is going on?"

Kurt heard footsteps in the hall, and then Carole appeared in the doorway. "Carole!" Kurt breathed in relief. "Thank god."

But _she_ didn't look at Kurt either. Instead, she was staring at Kurt's dad, with tears streaming down _her_ face. And she was wearing a black dress, her hair and make-up done, but toned down.

Kurt was starting to really panic now. _What_ was going on?

"Carole!" Kurt practically shouted.

She gave no indication of having heard Kurt at all. "Burt?" she whispered.

 _That_ got his dad's attention. He turned, and then they were crossing to each other and meeting in an embrace in the middle of the kitchen. They held on to one another, sobbing audibly into each other's shoulders.

Kurt could only stare, confused, upset, and terrified. He ran out of the kitchen, scaled the stairs to Finn's bedroom, and opened the door. Maybe Finn knew what was going on.

Finn was sitting on the end of his bed. He had one sock in his hand and one on his foot, and he was staring blankly, unseeingly, at the carpet by his feet. He was also, bizarrely, inexpicably, wearing a suit.

"Finn?" he said hesitantly.

But Finn didn't look up.

_No one could see or hear him._

Which meant he was dreaming, obviously. Kurt pinched himself, and shrank back against the door when he didn't wake up.

He was invisible. But how was that fucking possible? How --?

Kurt stepped forward and knelt down in front of Finn. "Finn?" he tried, but he knew, somehow, that it was hopeless. He was in some sort of... what, alternate reality!? Where no one could see or hear him? This was insane! It made no sense!

Finn seemed to come back to himself after a few more moments of staring past Kurt, and then he pulled on his neglected sock. His face crumpled with misery, and Kurt's heart seized with sadness and fear as Finn began to cry, too. Kurt stood up, swayed dizzily, and stumbled out of the room.

Why was his family dressed in funeral wear? Why were they all crying? And why couldn't they see Kurt?

Was... was Kurt _dead_? Was he in some fucked up version of _Just Like Heaven_?

Kurt went back to the kitchen, where his parents were sitting at the table with cups of coffee, staring down at the table. Kurt sank into an empty chair across from Carole and stared alternately between them. His heart was thrumming in his chest, and his hands were clammy and shaking.

Kurt's dad shook his head. "I - I can't -" he choked up, "I can't do this, Carole. My boy..." His face contorted in the same misery Finn had just worn, and he sobbed, "My boy's gone."

Kurt gasped. His eyes filled with tears. It felt like there was an invisible hand squeezing his heart.

He really _was_ dead. But _how_? And _why_? Did people, when they died, just... stay? And watch their loved ones mourn their death? How _cruel_ , how _awful_ \--

This just didn't make _sense_. He'd woken up and prepared for his day, just like he did every morning. What had he done differently? How could he be dead? He'd come home last night, after having coffee with Blaine. He's said hi to his dad and Carole in the living room, and then he'd gone up to bed. That was it.

Carole began to weep. "How could this happen?" she sobbed. "How could we let this happen?"

What did that mean?

Like a bolt of lightning, a thought struck Kurt. If his parents were about to attend his _funeral, what the fuck_ \--then there must have been an elapse in time. Funerals usually happened a few days after a death (Kurt knew from experience), so it--it stood to reason that Kurt had... had died several days ago.

Kurt cradled his head in his hands. He was starting to hyperventilate.

This _had_ to be a dream, and yet, somehow it wasn't.

Footsteps on linoleum told Kurt Finn had arrived in the kitchen. Kurt looked up as Finn took in his mom, and Kurt's dad, sitting there at the table, and then he started to cry again.

"Oh, baby," Carole cried, and she jumped up and gathered him into what looked like a bone-crushing hug. Kurt suddenly wanted a hug from her, too, so badly.

"I miss him so much," Finn sobbed.

Kurt's heart ached. His family, they--they were all so sad! Kurt knew he was loved, but seeing this--god, it was horrible confirmation that Kurt was an integral part of this family, and that his absence was leaving a terrible mark.

Rachel really was crazy. There was nothing to be gained from watching people attend your own funeral.

Kurt felt tears well up again. _New Directions._ Oh god, how were they handling all this?

Kurt watched, helplessly, as his dad got shakily to his feet and joined his family by the door to the kitchen. They stood together, the three of them, mourning and comforting each other.

Kurt felt so abruptly alone that the sensation almost bowled him over.

"Let's - let's do this," his dad mumbled, pulling away. "Kurt-" he choked, "Kurt would - he'd want us to - to be strong."

Kurt bit his lip as the tears started. He continued to watch as they all put on jackets and shoes by the door, and then--for some reason that Kurt couldn't identify, he followed Finn out the door and walked with them to the car. He managed to squeeze himself into the backseat after Finn, closing his eyes tight when Carole closed the door quietly before sinking into the passenger seat herself.

His dad turned the radio on, and they drove in mutual silence to the same church Kurt's mom's funeral had taken place all those years ago. Kurt reached out and put his hand on Finn's knee, trying to give him solace, even though Finn couldn't feel it. He stroked Carole's shoulders, and his dad's, choking on his own tears.

When the car rounded the corner on to the street where the church was located, Kurt's eyes boggled as he took in the long line of cars parked all along the block, the jampacked parking lot, the enormous crowd of people lined up at the church doors, and the _cameras and television crew_ camped outside.

Kurt cried harder, heart and thoughts racing. His death meant something. Something big enough to bring people out, to bring _reporters_ out.

Kurt squeezed out of the car after Finn and jumped out of the way as Finn slammed the car door shut, hard.

"I can't believe there are fucking _cameras_ here," Finn practically growled. "No goddamn respect," he spat.

They began to walk, huddled together, toward the church. Kurt followed them, at a complete loss. He felt exhausted. He was so sad, and _confused_ , and--why were there so many people here? Just to come to his funeral?

Despite the short time Kurt had had to get used to this whole confusing situation, he was not remotely prepared to see all of New Directions standing on the front steps of the church, crowded around each other and hugging and crying as people weaved around them.

Kurt began to cry again, in earnest. He stopped walking to let his heartbreak wash over him. He was _dead_ , and his friends were _devastated_.

It just hurt too much.

Kurt eventually managed to drag himself after his family. A reporter tried to ask Kurt's dad a question, but he shoved a hand into the camera lens. "Don't you dare," he grumbled, and he grabbed Carole's hand, and Finn's, and pushed past them up the stairs toward Kurt's friends.

Up close, Kurt could see individual reactions, though he wished he couldn't. Mercedes and Quinn were bawling in each other's arms, as were Tina and Mike, and Santana and Brittany. Artie was gripping Brittany's hand, tears rolling down his cheeks. Puck's jaw looked like it was about to splinter from being clenched shut so tight. Sam was comforting Mercedes and Quinn, and he was in tears too.

It was awful. Kurt rushed over and touched Mercedes' arm, crying out in misery when nothing happened at all. He couldn't handle this. His friends were in so much pain, because of him, and he couldn't do anything for them.

Finn broke away from his mom, and everyone welcomed him into their fold, dragging him over and crying even _harder_.

Kurt turned on his heel and ran to the sidewalk. He threw up, trembling violently, and spat on the ground as his stomach finished heaving.

He caught a snatch of what the reporter was saying on camera just a few feet away.

"...the tragic, sudden loss of Lima, Ohio native, 17 year-old Kurt Hummel, who was killed by a former classmate, David Karofsky, who is currently being held in custody and awaiting trial for first-degree murder. According to classmates and teachers, Kurt Hummel was a bright young man with a vivacious personality. Hummel, who was openly gay, experienced taunts and threats while attending William McKinley High School before transferring to Dalton Academy. He sang in his high school Glee clubs, and was known for his flare for fashion. His death has been felt, not only by his family and friends, but by the entire country. The residents of Lima, Ohio have been thoroughly shaken, and politicians and celebrities have spoken out against the unspeakable violence that has occurred here, and have expressed sorrow and well wishes to the Hummel family. On this sad morning, hundreds of people have gathered to commemorate the life of Kurt Hummel. He is greatly missed."

Kurt was shaking with horror and outrage. Karofsky had _killed_ him!? He was dead, because that despicable piece of _shit_ \--!?

Kurt bent over and threw up again, sobbing and retching over his anger and complete misery. He straightened up after a few moments and hurried away from the reporter; he didn't want to hear another word.

His family and friends had apparently gone inside while Kurt was being sick all over the sidewalk, so Kurt reluctantly followed a couple that he didn't know up the stairs and into the church.

The church pews were filled to capacity. Kurt looked around, recognizing the faces of McKinley students that had never bothered to talk to him but clearly felt rattled by his death anyway. Kurt couldn't find it in him to be bitter or resentful about it; he was oddly grateful, and his heart ached deeply.

As his eyes swept over the room, he settled on five rows of pews near the front, which held many boys in the Dalton uniform. Kurt felt the tears start up again. He was so tired of this emotional roller coaster, but how could he leave? Where would he even go?

It hit Kurt like a ton of bricks, and he was shocked to discover he hadn't thought of him once all morning.

_Blaine._

Kurt walked briskly over to his friends, most of whom were Warblers, though a few were from Kurt's classes. They were all sitting quietly, staring straight ahead. Some were crying, others were whispering quietly together, looking utterly dejected.

Blaine was sitting at the very end of the second pew on the right side of the church. His shoulders were trembling. Kurt overtook him and stared down, heart in his throat as he watched Blaine heave sobs into the sleeve of his blazer. Wes had a comforting hand on his shoulder, tears on his own face.

Kurt reached out; he was powerless to do anything else. His hand closed around Blaine's shoulder. Blaine's head snapped up, and Kurt gasped, snatching his hand away. Blaine's hand flew to the exact spot Kurt had just touched, and he stared at the place Kurt was standing. But there was no recognition there; he wasn't seeing Kurt.

He had felt Kurt, though. Kurt considered the significance of that, staring down as Blaine sighed heavily and hunched forward, shoulders shaking again.

Why could Blaine feel him, but no one else could?

Organ music started up, and Kurt jolted where he stood. He stumbled back and leaned against the closest wall, breathing hard. He was about to watch his own _funeral_.

Kurt glanced at the door and saw, ironically, Rachel coming in with two men who had to be her dads. Rachel hugged them both and then started toward New Directions, who were sitting in the front row on the opposite side of Kurt's dad and Carole and Finn. Rachel walked with her head held high, tears streaming. Mercedes got up and hugged her, and they held each other.

Kurt had to look away, and so his gaze caught on Carole, who was walking stoically over to Blaine. She leaned down to whisper something to him, and he nodded and stood, following her back to join his dad and Finn. Just as Blaine sat down beside Carole, the organ played out a last long note, and the man who had officiated at Kurt's mom's funeral stood up.

"Today we are gathered to mourn the loss of Kurt Hummel. But we are also here to remember his life." He paused, seeming to gather his thoughts. "When tragedy strikes, we look for solace with good friends, and we ask ourselves the hard questions. Why? Why has someone we love been taken from us?"

Kurt held his breath, listening to hundreds of people sniffling and sobbing over his death, and he felt the deepest love imaginable spreading through him. The pain and heartache were still there, but a warmth deep inside of him was dulling them slightly.

The man at the front of the church sighed. "There are no easy answers, but we continue to search all the same."

"Kurt Hummel was a kind and wonderful human being. He harboured a deep love for music, and so, today, we remember him through that wonderful sound which can bring us comfort when we are at a loss."

A moment of silence followed the man's words, and then music was filtering through the church's sound system.

_Don't cry for me, Argentina  
The truth is I never left you  
All through my wild days  
My mad existence  
I kept my promise  
Don't keep your distance_

Kurt's heart clenched. He walked, with slow movements, toward the row where his family was seated and sat down beside Blaine, who was crying silently, eyes shut tight. Kurt placed his hand on Blaine's knee, too light for him to notice, to jolt like he had before.

The music changed, and a medley of Kurt's favourite songs began. Every one brought another pang to his hurting heart. This was torture, watching his family and friends mourn like this for him.

Eventually, the music faded out entirely, leaving a pained quiet in its wake.

Kurt watched with some surprise as Mr Schue approached the front. He arranged himself behind a small podium, expression dazed and lost. He breathed in and out once, into the microphone.

"I had the pleasure of getting to know Kurt through McKinley's Glee Club." He smiled sadly. "I remember his audition perfectly. He sang Mr Cellophane, and he held that last note for so long I thought he might pass out."

A ripple of sad, hesitant laughter went through the congregation.

Good. Humour was good.

"I've watched Kurt grow and learn in so many ways," Mr Schue said softly. "He was talented, feisty, and he was an incredible student. He kept me on my toes, constantly challenging me to do better. I remember when he wanted us to sing Britney Spears. He told me to stop being so uptight all the time."

More quiet, stilted laughter.

"He was right; I'm way too uptight." Mr Schue paused, still smiling sadly. "I'll always think of Kurt in terms of music. He emoted in a way that most performers can't even hope to achieve. You can't _teach_ that. It just came naturally to him." He sniffed heavily. "I have so many memories of him standing in our choir room and singing his heart out."

Kurt wiped away the tears that were rolling down his cheeks.

"But I failed him," Mr Schue continued, voice wavering, and tears began to fall. "He was in danger, and I didn't do enough." He sniffed again. "I never do enough," he muttered.

"In a few moments," he said, voice growing stronger, "New Directions, Kurt's second family, are going to come up here and try to sing like Kurt always did. With passion-" he choked out, "and conviction."

At that, New Directions stood and made their way to cluster around Will. There was no formation, they just huddled together, united in their sadness, and began to sing without music accompaniment.

_Empty spaces  
What are we living for?  
Abandoned places  
I guess we know the score  
On and on  
Does anybody know what we are looking for?_

There was no technique involved; Kurt's friends sang the melody together through their tears, each faltering at different moments.

_Another hero  
Another mindless crime  
Behind the curtain  
In the pantomime  
Hold the line  
Does anybody want to take it anymore?_

_The show must go on  
The show must go on  
Inside my heart is breaking  
My make-up may be flaking  
But my smile still stays on..._

Kurt began to sob with abandon. His hand squeezed, unconsciously, around Blaine's knee. Blaine gasped, and his hand slowly came down to close around Kurt's. Something shifted within Kurt; he let out every bit of pain and sorrow within him and closed his eyes. He felt a pull somewhere in the vicinity of his stomach, and when he opened his eyes again, he was in his bed.

_He was in his bed._

Kurt threw his bedcovers off frantically, wide awake, and ran downstairs, skidding to a halt in the kitchen. Burt was sitting at the table, munching on a piece of toast.

"Dad!" Kurt shouted.

His dad jumped and clasped his chest with his free hand. "Jesus, Kurt!" he croaked. "What's with the shouting?"

Kurt stared at his dad, mouth open. "You - you're--" He swallowed. "You can hear me. You can _see_ me."

His dad gave Kurt a look like he was mentally unbalanced, which--considering the circumstances...

Kurt's eyes welled with tears, and he stumbled over to his dad and wrapped him in a vice-like hug. "I love you," he mumbled thickly.

His dad returned the hug, though with clear confusion. "I love you too, Kurt. Are you feeling okay? Do you feel sick?"

Kurt shook his head. "No," he muttered. "I'm okay."

~*~

After changing into his uniform, Kurt went out to his car and just sat behind the wheel, staring out the windshield at the tree on the front lawn.

It really had been a dream.

But it had felt so _real_. And he hadn't been able to wake up.

Kurt breathed out through his nose and turned his iPod on before starting the car and the long drive to Dalton. He had plenty of time to reflect on the dream, on the horror of witnessing his own funeral, of having to watch the people he loved--

Kurt shook his head to clear it, and tried to focus on something else. It didn't really work. When he pulled into the parking lot at school, Blaine was standing right where Kurt usually parked, as if he was waiting for Kurt.

Kurt shut off the ignition. Blaine opened the door, reached in and pressed the release button on Kurt's seatbelt, and yanked Kurt out of the car by the hand.

"Blaine, what--?"

Blaine threw his arms around Kurt and sagged against him. Then he sobbed into Kurt's shoulder. Kurt stopped struggling, arms going around Blaine on impulse. "What's wrong?" he asked softly.

Blaine sobbed again. "I - I had the worst dream. But - but it felt so real," he gasped. "You didn't come into school, and - and then," Blaine shook fiercely and whimpered, "then we found out you were - that you were _dead_ , and--" Blaine sobbed again, and Kurt felt blood rushing through his ears, felt his heart pounding wildly.

What. The. _Fuck._

"And there was a _funeral_ ," Blaine gasped, "and you were _gone_. K-Karofsky, he--"

Kurt squeezed Blaine hard and buried his face in the crook of Blaine's shoulder.

"And I know it was just a dream," Blaine croaked in a watery voice, "but it felt so _real_. It was-- _god_ , Kurt, it was the worst I've ever felt. When I woke up, I - I thought you really were dead, and I - I just--"

He broke down, crying with sobs that wracked his entire frame. Kurt bit his lip and pressed his wet face into Blaine's hair.

"I was so scared," Blaine whispered as he started to calm down. "I was _so scared_."

Kurt took in a physically painful breath and pulled out of the hug just enough to meet Blaine's bloodshot gaze. "I'm here," he whispered. "I'm alive."

Blaine's lower lip trembled, and then he was pressing his mouth desperately against Kurt's.

Kurt gasped and returned the kiss immediately, hands clenching in the material of Blaine's jacket. He focused on putting every emotion he'd experienced in that dream, or non-dream, or whatever the fuck it had been into the join of their mouths. He kissed Blaine with an urgency that seemed like an actual entity, and Blaine gave as good as he got, fisting his hands in Kurt's hair and sobbing into Kurt's mouth.

Kurt didn't know what he--and Blaine--had gone through. All he knew was that Blaine was here, and he understood, and he was loving Kurt with his whole being.

Kurt could only cling to Blaine and love him back.

 

~*~


End file.
